The Final Act
by Mainn
Summary: "Life is not fair, and much of it has to do with more than a fair bit of luck, and quite a bit of irony."  Alternate Ending One-Shot. Narrated by Death


**This is something I wrote for a school project. It is my first fic I have posted on this site. I personally think the book ended perfectly, but it was in the criteria that we had to write a new ending. I personally think I did a good job on it, but I don't really know. Reviews would be appreciated.**

**~Mainn**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Markus Zusak. I am obviously not him.**

That night the sky was black. As a layer of tar covering the world, or as a bottomless abyss consuming all without exception or discrimination. That was what I was, just taking without remorse or any distinguishing. Well I took everyone that way, except the Book Thief. Her I gave my respect, she held and still holds a special place in the void of my heart, and at the very least she provided a distraction from my morbid job, at least for a time.

But back to the story at hand. The bombs came with no warning to Himmel Street. Ironic that someone would bomb a street named after heaven isn't it? But the world is full of ironies, some just don't take the time to appreciate them. I don't take the time, but they are appreciated. As much as humans are interesting, they are outstandingly ignorant at times as well. The man set to watch the sky that night was asleep at his post. No one wants to bomb Himmel Street was his reasoning. Well he is true in that regard, but the bombs are often wrong.

The alarms never came, no one was prepared, no one was aware. The whole town asleep as I swept through them, leading the souls away from the carnage. As I did my task, I made sure to hold the children in my arms gently carrying them away. I went down the entirety of Himmel Street and several more streets over this way, the sky still black, a void of nothingness. I took the Book Thief's parents, her father with the achievement of already cheating me twice would not do so a third time.

In the basement the Book Thief slept soundly, curled around her prized possession. Her story, and one I should soon not forget. The basement as you remember was not deep enough to be an adequate shelter. The Book Thief died that night, and as I took her into my arms, she recognized me. In the brief encounters over the years I had been watching her she had been watching me, well not exactly watching me but she knew I was there. She knew not my name then, but she knew me, and I had finally come for her. As I was carrying her away, she didn't fight it, or try to change it, but she looked up at me with a calm acceptance and smiled sadly.

Later that night, with the rubble still piled in the streets, and men trying to sort through the carnage, I would return to that basement not knowing what had drawn me there. I would look down and see a book, a small black one, the same color as the sky, next to the corpse of the Book Thief, I do not know if I imagined the faint smile on her lips. I put the book in one of my many pockets, as a reminder of some of the fascinating wonders of humanity, and would read it many times over the years bringing it with me as I travel the globe. The Book Thief's story is the one I tell to you now and it has but one more part.

After the war, a man with light feathery hair would come to the town of Molching. He would walk through the grave yard now much larger than it was the last time he was in the town even though he had never seen it. He kneeled down next to a small grave stone, a small grave stone for a small girl, and he said a few words. Few words can come to mean so much if said right. What the man said that day as he knelt beside that stone was as the following, "It should have been me." He left it at that, a single tear trailing down his cheek, never to return and waiting for the day when he could say so much more. Waiting for the day to thank the little girl who had saved his life and gave him everything he had to live for. Oh another irony of life that he be the one that lived. But again I say, life is not fair, and much of it has to do with more than a fair bit of luck, and quite a bit of irony. Max eventually got the chance to thank Liesel seeing as he met up with her as soon as he died. It was an interesting death to say the least, one that involved a man, a promise, and a fight, but that is another story for another day and I shall leave it at that.


End file.
